


The Keeper

by Suchsmallhands



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, I mean, Lighthouse Keeper, Lighthouses, M/M, Nautical, Ocean, compass and ship, lighthouse keepers, one direction nautical lyrics, sailors, ships, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 14:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5295512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suchsmallhands/pseuds/Suchsmallhands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's love and loss are seen from the walls of his home. </p><p>Based on the Lighthouse's Tale, this is just that, from the perspective of Harry's tower. </p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by the song A Lighthouse's Tale. :) Have fun, feel free to comment, please.
> 
> \- 
> 
> It's been months since I started this and then stopped writing after about three chapters. I had decided then to leave everything as it was and not go on with the story. Since then, I never stopped thinking of it and decided I may as well give it a finish since it was there in my head. So I did, but a lot of this writing was written over months and the style and intention was messy and not cohesive and all around not my best. This is just a short write that I felt the need to finish for some reason. Be careful and enjoy. x

_"I am a lighthouse, worn by the weather and the waves. I keep my lamp lit to warn the sailors on their way."_  
_-Nickel Creek, The Lighthouse's Tale_

The sun was laying heavily over the horizon as Harry woke up, groaning and sluggishly pulling on his boots and shrugging on a coat for the cold of the light room.  
He held onto the curving railing of the narrow staircase as he stepped slowly down the stairs into the kitchen below his room. The circular room warmed as he put tea on, grabbing some cold bread and rubbing his eyes as he waited for the tea.  
When it was ready he carried his bread and tea upstairs, taking the two curling, narrow flights of stairs to the very top where the light room resided. His breath was soft as he sighed, stepping into the room. It was cold up here, the thin walls and surrounding glass panels doing little to shield the chilling wind of the skies. Harry smiled softly, walking around the glass encasing the lamp. It was much bigger than he was, it's glass the cleanest thing in the tower, clear and beautiful.  
Harry stepped onto the balcony, finishing his bread as he watched the sun set. It was a blinding one this evening, dying with fire, going out brightly. The tower stood high, raising off of the ground so that the wind could whip at the top. Near the base, cliff sides broke white, foaming waves as the sea hummed and pitched against the land as it had been for as many years as Harry had been a keeper. For years before that, and years before that, for years before the first keeper. The sea was as endless as it would ever be timeless, and Harry was soothed by it.  
He normally woke up this way, standing in front of the railing at the balcony edge as he watched the sun begin to disappear. He looked up and saw the moon raising pale and soft into the sky. He set his tea down and went into the lamp room, starting his routine by pulling away the heavy curtains that he drew each morning around the lamp case to shield it from the damaging sunlight.  
It was a lot of work, being a keeper. Days started early, or rather nights did. Harry set to work opening the glass doors to the lamp and cleaning it, checking that the preparations from the morning before were still set and preparing to light it. Once he did he would stay in the lamp room for the next hour, to assure that it was still burning as all keepers must during the first few hours of the night. Harry was a diligent keeper. This tower had housed it's fair share of keepers, all of them sufficient as they must be when lives depended on their unwavering work. Though, Harry was happy and caring for his job. He tended the tower, his home, every night and day with contentedness and easy going disposition. He had a sweet tempered, easy heart about him anyways.  
For the first hour of watching the lamp, he liked to start the night by cleaning the glass. He shielding his eyes from the blinding light when he had to, liking to do this in the evening, finding himself too tired in the morning.  
He tended to the weight system and it's ropes, making sure the lamp could rotate, along with an extensive list of necessary chores.  
He was a soft, happy kind of boy. He spent most of his nights cooking in the kitchen, or reading on his balcony, watching for ships at sea. With his time, he was able to practice baking, always smiling gently when he was able to make a new pastry.  
It was noticeable, however, the soft faltering in his smiles at times. He would sometimes laugh at a book, sitting on his balcony and then set it in his lap for a few sad looking moments. When he cooled off one of his new recipes of cakes or breads, his smile sometimes softened with longing or something missing.  
It wasn't always a very sociable experience, being a keeper. Harry was quiet, perfectly cut out for his job. He tended the tower, high up in the air, happily. He liked his home, liked watching the sky and the sun and the sea live out their days in harmony with him and each other, each day. He liked taking care of the lamp, liked guiding the ships at sea. He liked meeting the sailors at the harbor down the coast, just a short walk northward. He liked being praised and making friends with the sailors. He liked meeting new sailors, liked them flirting discreetly with him, blushing and declining them gently. He liked seeing old friends sail through the port from the year before, liked the nomadic lives they lived and how short but strongly friendships with them held. He liked his days and his nights in his tower, and he liked spending them both down the road at the harbor. He liked dancing in the taverns with kind women and men who smelled like salt and whiskey, shedding his light with people who seemed harmless enough.  
He was lonely, however. There came times up in the light room, when he thought that it might be nice to have someone to watch the sunsets and sunrises with. Perhaps someone to taste his newly discovered recipes. Someone who he could share books with. Someone who he could talk to in the night.  
He had a lot of love for this place and yearned to share it with someone.  
He didn't let it weigh heavily, he wasn't the sort for that. He had a light to keep and so he did, quietly in time with the sea and the sun.


	2. Chapter 2

The rain was cold and vigorous as it showered against the walls of the lighthouse, falling from the darkened night sky. The cliffs at the sea flow with the rain water moving into the waves. The beam at the light room moved slowly and brightly through the dark, wet air. At the very bottom of the tower, the door swung open, rain whipping into the circular room.  
The breath of Harry and a new, young boy stumbled inside, pushing the door shut with him. Harry leaned against the door, hair wet and dripping as he met eyes with the new person at the bottom of the tower.  
"Thanks." The boy stumbled, eyes light and brunette hair dripping.  
"No problem, Louis." Harry smiled, pushing his hair back. He pealed off his coat, carrying it as he stepped towards the stair case, Louis doing the same. As he led the way up the stairs, Louis jogged behind him, eyes wandering in curiosity.  
"This is a lot of stairs." He breathed, panting as they passed the bathroom and then the store room.  
"It is a tower." Harry laughed, reaching the kitchen. He hung his coat on a chair in the kitchen near a very small table. He held his hand out for Louis', nodding to his own. Louis was smaller and had an discomfortingly beautiful face about him, coy eyes glimmering with a smile as he pulled his coat off his shoulders. Harry blinked, hanging it next to his.  
He stepped up the stairs and led the way to his room, noticing the rain as it streamed down the tightly shut window next to his bed.  
"So you really live in a lighthouse?" Louis smiled, looking around the room.  
"Yeah..." He murmured, feeling strange to have someone else in the tower, looking at everything. Louis was now leaning on the bed to look out the window. He'd had the carpenters and the repairmen inside before to fix problems with the light room before, but never someone like this. A boy his own age who seemed to be very interested in him and the tower.  
"How high up are we?" Louis asked, trying to tilt his head to see the drop. It was too dark outside, turning his head he smiled at him. Harry was still leaning against the door frame, mouth opening silently as he appraised the boy kneeling on his bed. He looked... breathless and alive. Water dampened his shoulders and ankles, his eyes bright and, if Harry wasn't mistaken by the dim candle light, blue. His smile was the breathless part.  
"Harry?" He narrowed his eyes, grinning in amusement, tipping his head to the side.  
"Uh... Do you want to see?" He stood from the frame, wide hand still against it.  
"See what?"  
"How high." He nodded his head upwards.  
He hopped off the bed, smiling, "Sure."  
Harry laughed, turning and jogging up the stairs to the light room. He felt Louis' excited hand holding onto his arm as Harry opened the door at the top of the stairs. The sound of the rain against the wooden and glass walls cause Louis' eyes to widen, an audible hitch in his breath. It was loud up here, the rain falling against the glass. Harry stepped forward, watching Louis as he looked around.  
"I've never been in a lighthouse before." He mumbled, eyes alight as he looked around. Harry was glad the light was taller than they were, not blinding them as it rotated it's blazing beam slowly. He walked around the glass case of the light, Louis beside him as he opened the door to the balcony.  
"Whoa." Louis laughed, gripping his arm as the cold wind pushed at them both. Harry smiled, watching as Louis looked at the light, illuminated the drops of water in the sky. The rain was frozen in snaps of the powerful light as it fell, disappearing again into the dark.  
"You can't really see how high we are, but if you look you can see the waves down there." He pointed and Louis leaned forward to see.  
"It's freezing." Louis shivered, pulling back and giggling. Harry closed the door.  
"Do you want tea?" He raised his voice over the rain, noticing how close Louis stood.  
"Tea sounds lovely." He nodded, his shoulders trembling with a shiver, laughing.  
In the kitchen, Harry brought him a towel and dried them off. He lit a few more candles, turning on the stove to help the room warm. He glanced at him, watching as he lifted his towel dried head, hair falling over his forehead. He glanced away, feeling embarrassed of how pretty the new comer looked, and how nice his voice sounded.  
"Do you make Yorkshire?" Louis asked. He nodded. Louis stood, his bare feet padding across the floor to his side. "You should let me make it, I'm quite good." He murmured, coming up next to him and starting.  
Harry swallowed and stepped back, leaning against the counter and watching him. The room was warm and the candlelight illuminated Louis as he made tea.  
"You - I only have one bed..." Harry murmured, "If you're staying."  
Louis laughed, glancing at him. "I'm fine with sharing, if you are."  
"Okay." Harry laughed, trying not to be awkward.  
Louis was curled up in his chair at the kitchen table, his fingers wrapped around the cup of tea as Harry sipped at his own.  
"Thanks for helping me, I didn't expect it to start raining so quickly." Louis murmured, sipping at the tea as steam rose from the cups. Harry nodded, eyes attentive on the new boy.  
"Do you live far away?" His deep voice hummed.  
"Not very far, but up the road a ways." Louis rasped, voice scratchy from a drink of the tea. "I live with me mum and sisters."  
"You have sisters?"  
"Don't you have siblings?"  
"Not really... My parents were farmers near here and I had a sister but we got separated when my parents died. I got this job taking care of the light and never really found her."  
"I'm sorry." Louis murmured, "Were you close?"  
Harry shrugged, feeling strange. He didn't normally talk about his family, even with his friends at the harbor. "She took good care of me when we were younger and my parents got old and sick. But we didn't really talk much. I liked her, though, she was good to me."  
"You live here alone?" Louis murmured, his soft blue eyes peering from over his cup. Harry kept thinking offhandedly that he looked very pretty, pushing that thought away from him, trying not to think that way about his new friend.  
"Yes." He nodded. "Yeah." Louis smiled at him and huffed a quiet laugh at his response.  
"How long have you been here?"  
"Well... since I was seventeen, I think. I needed somewhere to live and the last keeper needed someone to take over so it worked out."  
"Huh." Louis hummed, "You like the work?"  
"Yes." Harry nodded, "Yeah, it's fun."  
Harry listened as Louis went on about himself, answering questions he was asked and listening to the range of his calm raspy voice and his loud laughter. He waited until Louis was yawning and he had gone through two and a half cups of warm tea, to show him the bed. They sat together, Louis talking quietly as he began to tire.  
"I like this place, it's cozy." Louis hummed as he lay down against the pillows, tucked against the wall. Harry lay back next to him, listening to him talk. "The rain sounds nice. I mean, it was nerve-ish at first being up here, but it's making me tired now."  
Harry listened to him as he drifted off, falling asleep soon after. 

-

Harry woke as the sky began to lighten, barely. He noticed Louis' warmth against his side and felt warm and slightly nervous from the contact of another person. He danced with people down at the tavern, but that was different than a sleeping friend pressed against you.  
He left the bed quietly and went upstairs to care for the lamp, cold as the warmth of the bed shared with Louis faded from his clothes. He shut the light off, cleaning it and replacing the oil and locking the weights. As he pulled the curtains closed to protect the mirrors and filters from the sunlight, he took notice of today's sunrise. The rain had slowed to a soft, quiet, slow drizzle and Harry could watch it fall passed from the balcony. The sun was turning the sky a soft purple and pink as it approached the sky.  
"That's a nice sky." Harry jumped at the soft voice behind him, pleased to see Louis approach his side. He was wrapped in his coat and still looked warm from the bed.  
"Yeah, it is." He smiled softly. Their had been numerous sunrises like this, pastels over the ocean, that he saw alone. Harry stepped onto the balcony, showing him the view.  
"Oh." Louis murmured, leaning closer to the railing and looking over. The soft light illuminated his face, his hair fluttering with the breeze. The rain dripped softly down, slowing as the sun rose. "Not many buildings around here are built more than two stories."  
"I don't really notice it now." Harry murmured as Louis looked at the ocean.  
"D'you ever go swimming?"  
"Not until august, no. I don't much, but I do like having it near. Don't think I'd want to live inland." He shrugged.  
Louis' eyes widened as two birds chased each other through the air in front of him. He laughed, looking back at Harry.  
Quiet minutes passed, the morning quiet and the lamp covered and still, the rain dripping and pattering to a slow stop.  
"Look, I've got to go see my mum and tell her I didn't freeze in the rain. Thanks to you." He smiled, making Harry look at the floor. "D'you want to come with me and say hi? I know you might be tired, I don't know when lighthouse keepers sleep."  
"Of course." He nodded, "And I mostly sleep whenever I'm tired. And if I'm tired at dawn or nightfall, I just stay up."  
"Then it's settled."  
Harry watched in surprise as he marched off to the stairwell.


	3. Chapter 3

Louis liked the tower. Harry learned as time passed that he liked Yorkshire tea, playing outside, clouds, and flowers. He learned that Louis was a natural flirt, it seemed.  
He didn't know if Louis even noticed himself doing it. Perhaps it was only him. He always felt affected by the way Louis angled his body towards him when they stood together, the way he looked at him, the way he tilted his head or teased him.  
Harry was happy to have a friend in the tower. He felt happy when he was near. He felt happy to leave the lighthouse and visit with Louis' sisters and mum. His mother made tea like Louis did, telling him funny stories about Louis once while they talked. Louis was not pleased that Anne told him that when he was a child he told her his bum was 'too perfect to be spanked, do not touch me.' His sisters were close to him and Harry wasn't used to being around family, but he liked this one. Louis worked to help Anne stay afloat, as did his oldest sister.  
When he wasn't working for his family or helping at home, he was at the lighthouse. Harry got used to his company. He got used to falling asleep on the bed in the middle of a card game, or coming in later to find his friend snoring lightly on top of the sheets. He liked playing outside with him, walking down to the shoreline in view of the tower, throwing rocks into the waves and chasing him in the grass.  
Louis woke up with him in the mornings to come with Harry to the light room. He sat on the balcony, watching the sun rise slowly and both modestly and magnificently over the coast. Harry fetched a blanket from inside before joining him on the balcony. He had learned that Louis got moody when he was cold, and as the winter began to get to it's coldest moments, he liked to keep his friend warm when possible.  
He lay the blanket over his shoulders and sat with him on the wooden floor, the morning air fresh and the sky colorful, reflecting in the water.  
"Have you ever seen a shipwreck, out there?" Louis asked, voice soothing to his ears.  
"Yes." He nodded.  
"Did anyone live?"  
"Most of the time, yes. There's only been a few but, in the last one, no. No one came back." Louis frowned.  
"Why not?" Harry's brow creased, breathing deeply.  
"It was a bad night. I had a feeling it would be, I was up the whole night with the lamp keeping an eye on the water in case an accident happened. Usually if I can catch them quickly, I can get down to the harbor in time to tell the men and they send a boat out to pick up anyone treading water or hanging onto something to float." He shrugged, "It was just a bad storm, really. Too windy. The sails were getting too ripped to help guide them anywhere, and they couldn't let them out anyways for the wind... and there was a bad northern swell that night, the waves were too strong. I tried to blink the light to warn them not to come in but there really wasn't any helping it."  
Louis' brow creased.  
"I'm sorry." He mumbled.  
"It's alright. I do love the sea." He hummed quietly. Louis was quiet, watching him for a moment, the sigh of the ocean filling the pauses.  
"How? After seeing it kill those people?"  
Harry thought for a moment, brow creasing and nodding.  
"Yes... Well, the sea isn't to blame. Sometimes things happen, I suppose. I don't blame the ocean, if it's anyone's fault it's the sailors for testing it. But... I don't blame them, they're just being who they are. Just like the waves that night. Sometimes good things make bad things happen, but it's no one's fault. I guess. I just don't feel that way." Louis smiled softly, leaning into his shoulder and making him blush. 

-

The sun was rising as Harry woke up alone and shut the lamp off, cleaning the glass like he used to constantly before Louis came and distracted him.  
He was at work for a few quiet moments before he heard the voice calling in the distance.  
"Harry!" Louis called, making him lift his head in confusion. He went to the balcony, leaning over and dropping his jaw. At the bottom of the tower, Louis waved his arms, laughing.  
"Louis?" He waved Harry down.  
"Come down, Rapunzel!" Harry laughed, turning and hurrying to close the doors and pull the curtain around the lamp, jogging down every step to meet him. 

-

The sound of feet pattering through the tower coupled with the pounding of them along the floorboards. They sped and tumbled down the stairs, running into the kitchen with Harry speeding along behind the laughing boy who gripped the counter, not able to run far in a tower.  
His laughter turned to squeals as Harry shamelessly picked him up and towed him up the stairs to his bedroom. Louis laughed, slapping his shoulders.  
"Piss off!" He giggled, kicking his legs, wriggling.  
He dropped into his bed, laying down and holding Louis against him as he struggled. He laughed along as the sun from the window lit up Louis' skin, his hand pushing half halfheartedly at his chest.  
"Hazza." He cackled, giving up.  
"Hazza?" He questioned, Louis touching his long curls.  
"Let me up you lump." He growled, pushing his arm. Harry released, leaning back. Louis lay still, eyes light and quiet as he toyed with his curls slowly.  
"Your eyes are very green." Louis murmured casually, making him hope he wasn't blushing.  
"Yours are blue." He rolled them, twirling a curl around his finger.  
He was pretty, his skin tanner than Harry's and warm in the sunlight. 

-

Harry woke up after a night with him, finding his bed empty. The extra room dampened his mood as he got up to turn off the lamp.  
In the light room, a soft pleasing feeling greeted him with Louis on the balcony. Harry made quick work of pulling the curtains on the lamp, relieving the sky into the quiet stillness of dawn. Joining Louis, he sat down next to him, leaving a small amount of empty air between their shoulders.  
"How come you're up so early?" Harry mumbled. "You like to sleep in."  
"I wanted to see what it was like for you to come up here alone in the morning like this." He mumbled quietly, voice soft against the sound of dawn. Dawn was quiet. It commonly seemed to be, the beck and call of the ocean turning to a sighing hum that smoothed over the air, the birds not yet singing.  
Harry watched his face, his heart quieting. He'd never seen a morning as beautiful as he looked right here. The soft, dim light of dawn was only beginning to color his skin, still low but not low enough to obscure his languid, living eyes. Harry was in the middle of staring at him when Louis returned his gaze. He watched quietly as Louis leveled him with a gaze that made his skin ripple. He wasn't sure why. He wasn't used to having reactions to people. He wasn't used to the feeling of being affected by another person.  
Louis shifted, moving so that his body was pressed against his side. He watched him, blue, dark eyes moving over him just as he had inspected his body so many times before. Louis' chin tilted down and Harry felt his stomach grow hot, feeling that something was different about the way he looked and sat with him.  
His breath hiccuped as Louis leaned his head closer to him, lifting one hand to place his cool fingers against the base of his neck. Harry didn't look away from him, feeling his chest tighten in a strange, soft, seizing kind of way. Louis' fingers rested against the warm base of his neck, brushing against his collar bone.  
"I'm going to kiss you." He whispered, voice barely touching his ears, his mouth shifting around the sound. Harry's body felt weak and nodded once.  
The feeling of his lips was cool and soft. He remembered to breath after a moment, kissing him back. He didn't know it felt like this. That his mouth felt warm and gentle. That his mind was quiet and safe.  
His heart was soft.  
Louis' mouth stilled, pulling back a small inch.  
"Okay?" He murmured quietly. Harry felt surprise at his emotions. He didn't feel energized. But as he saw Louis' expression, saw the light, the effect he'd had on him. He saw Louis' softness reflecting his own. He felt weak and the ache that he felt right before crying.  
"Yeah." He nodded, smiling and laughing quietly. Louis smiled with him, leaning in once more and pressing his lips against his. Harry blushed and leaned away, smiling as he chased him. He earned his kiss again, turning his head to try again. He lifted his hand to wrap around Louis', holding it against his body, warming it with his larger one.


	4. Chapter 4

Louis kissed him, breathing against his mouth as he pressed close to his body. Harry was hard but solely occupied by his naked body, nestled in the sheets of his bed. He lay on his side, lovely hands touching his own cock as he kissed softly at his mouth. Pulling away he watched as Louis reached between his legs and pressed his fingers against his own hole. He saw his brow crease as he hummed breathily and shifted his hips, pushing his finger in behind. What he could see was a view; bright eyes fluttering closed, his soft stomach moving with his muscles and breathing, quiet sounds from his throat.  
He followed pliantly as Louis took his wrist and pulled it between his thighs, removing his own hand and opening his eyes to watch him carefully as he nudged his hand to the entrance.  
Harry pushed himself up onto his elbow, fingers carefully finding the place. Louis’ nimble fingers wrapped around his wrist as he gently pushed at the opening. Every reaction was clear in his open mouth, feeling his fingers.  
This feeling remained for a short time still foreign to his hand, Louis exhaling and laying his head against the bed, pretty chest shifting with his breath.  
He slowly moved his fingers until they were covered up to the last knuckle, finding the pleasure from his fingertips.  
“Another.” Louis murmured, rasping as he glanced at Harry’s cock. Harry wanted briefly for the ability to use his mouth on his penis.  
He ducked his head forward and parted his lips against Louis’ chest, fingers working as Louis lifted his head in surprise. He took his nipple in his mouth, sucking and nipping softly.  
“ _Oh_.” He sucked in a breath, hands going to his curls as Harry sucked and kissed and focused on the warmth around his fingers and in his mouth. His stomach tingled at the sound of Louis’ humming and gripping at his hair, pulling him against his chest.  
Louis pulled his hand slowly out of him and got up, moving Harry onto his back and throwing his leg over his hips. He lay back obediently, wild blush in his cheeks as Louis’ hands trailed across his face, watched by his ocean eyes.  
His mouth opened as Louis’ hands wrapped around his penis, guiding him between his warm thighs. The smooth, afternoon sunlight touched darkened skin through the window. He didn’t think about anything but the boy hovering over him as Louis carefully leaned against him. His eyes squeezed shut from the stimulation, opening again to see Louis watching him closely. There was attention in his eyes, as if moving slowly and carefully with him.  
He sat all the way down, breathing through the adjustment. He leaned forward and Harry watched, hands still immobile and open with nothing in his passive grasp as Louis kissed him softly. His face softened and he forgot about the aching new pleasure. He hadn’t expected the warmth in his chest as he placed his hands against Louis’ ribs. He could feel his breath under his hands and against his mouth as he kissed gently. He’d never felt this warmth of life in his head or heart or whatever be there in a human that made a person.  
He didn’t expect the air or Louis to be so tender and real, even as he had started to pull their clothes off with light and ease in his eyes.  
Louis rocked his body up and pulled back down, making Harry’s breath jump in surprise. He had never anticipated sex or anything that it felt like. He hadn’t expected the drag as Louis leaned against his chest and rocked slowly. Harry’s hands gripped against him, gritting a deep moan.  
Louis was moving steadily, still so close to him as he placed one hand behind his head. He opened his mouth, brow creasing as he choked a moan. Harry couldn’t look away as he breathed through his moans, fucking himself and humming.  
Harry had heard moans before, he’d never appreciated their sound, from behind doors in the harbor when he went to taverns.  
Louis sounded good enough to make his hands tremble, bumps rising on his skin. High and low, breaking and rasping. The sound of him, the sound only his body made, only him in all the world.  
Harry lifted his head from the pillow, pressing their lips together. Louis paused, distracted as he returned the kiss, precious breath panting.  
Harry wrapped his arm around him, kissing as Louis regained pace. He felt Louis wrap his hand around himself, his knuckles grazing Harry’s stomach with his strokes.  
He met his hand with his own, able to cover it with his large palms. Louis’ fingers slid away, letting him take control of the feeling.  
“Harry.” Louis choked, the _H_ falling quiet. His hips moved differently, his legs shifting to grind at a different tone and pace. Harry noticed the difference, as if he was doing it mindlessly before and was now moving for pleasure, lifting head to groan high in his throat.  
Harry pulled at his neck, asking him to come back. Louis’ blown eyes lowered to see him, watching him before laying against his chest, kissing him.  
The kiss turned to the press of mouths as Louis panted against him, coming apart over him. Harry felt Louis’ come warm his stomach, his hand getting wet.  
“ _Harry._ ” Louis’ hand squeezed his curls tightly as he finished, Harry feeling himself tense and lock up as he came.  
As Louis came down, hips slowed, breath heavy against his mouth. He eventually stopped. Harry was still, eyes half lidded as he watched him close his eyes and lay his head on his chest. His muscles seemed too tired to move, legs spread over his hips, shifting once only too tired to move properly.  
Harry helped him get off and lay down in the sheets next to him. His hands touched him tame and gentle, seeing eyes blink slowly as they looked over him.  
Harry’s thumb moved over his warm wrist or silent moments. Pulling the sheet up, he carefully covered them, scooting closer to wrap his body around him. Louis strained as he adjusted them and lay down against his side, his arm and head on his chest.  
He listed as he fell asleep on his heart, not before taking his hand with weak muscles. He fell asleep, thankful for the high sun that he’d get to sleep next to him for hours before turning on the lamp.  
Hours later, when he did, he slipped out carefully. Louis mumbled sleepily as he pulled out from under him, brow creasing in a frown as Harry sat up. The room was dark with night as he kissed his head, patting his side.  
An hour after he’d set the light, he returned to find Louis lifting his head and reaching for him. He returned himself to his hands, letting him pull him into the blanket and wrap him in his able arms. Louis rubbed him to reclaim him from the cold of the Lightroom, chasing away the chill between them with his warmth.


	5. Chapter 5

From the shining glass that circled the top of the lighthouse, the sun could be seen shining down low and brilliant across the rolling field of pale grass between the stone walls and the cliffs at the shore of the bubbling sea. Laughter could be heard bright and wild, clipping from Louis as Harry chased him fast and faster across the field to the sea, clothes being stripped and thrown carelessly. 

-

On the balcony outside the lightroom, Harry sang and chuckled along with Louis. A guitar in his lap.  
The wind was laden with the salt of the sea and Harry sighed happily as he lay across the wood beside where Louis sat with the guitar and thumbed the strings steadily. The ends of their trousers were rolled up, feet bare. Harry kept his hair tied back, the curls thick with salt and messy. He admired Louis from his place, his head propped on his hand. He admired his hair where it lay over his forehead and flipped around in the wind. Admired his easy eyes where they smiled at him and his head as it bobbed along to music. The sun was in and out of the clouds.  
He was, these days, used to him. To days with him and days with his family. To the way Louis worked to keep his family afloat. To the way he held him from behind while they slept. To routine. And to living with someone.  
Louis reached out with his toes and nudged Harry playfully, pushing at his belly. It made him laugh and push his ankles away.  
Louis would begin a song and it could be listened to from the balcony.  
“Here, this is an old folk song, I don’t know that many.” He readied, crossing his legs and playing towards Harry.  
The music was a beautiful noise from his voice. These were the kind of quiet, wonderful things that always surprised Harry.  
_The water is wide_  
_I can’t get over_  
_Neither have I the wings to fly_  
_So go and give me to a boat to carry both_  
_My love and I…_

-  
Harry lay with Louis on the balcony under a blanket spread across them both. Above him the night sky was dark and steady, below him the tower that was his home stood as still in the endless ocean draft as it had for years before Harry had been born.  
Louis’ breath was even and his eyes were tired from the weight of the day. He worked so hard for his family, every day, whatever would bring money and food to their home. Many of the hours that Louis spent after his work days, long and laborious, and after returning home to his mother, all hours after that spent at the tower were often quiet hours occupied by his deep rest. Harry looked forward to him lying limp and exhausted in his bed, looked forward to the safe, useful feeling it gave him. The usefulness that he earned from the light every night was an anonymous, faceless usefulness. His face was the face of the lighthouse, his voice reached as far as its beam, looking at him was to look into the face of the lighthouse.  
And he liked it that way, he liked his home and he liked the value that his perfectly consistent work had by his lamp.  
But when Louis sighed into his pillow and leaned into his body as he fell asleep, it was Harry that he sought for. No light that he saw, no ship that he sailed by his word. Only him, and he was enough. And it was his face that guided him home when he was tired.  
Now, Harry wondered how he could have imagined this content that he had now, laying against Louis’ side and looking at the wild region of the stars. Somehow, these pretty things in life are made more beautiful by the company kept when they’re seen. And that beauty is as ephemeral as the ties between the people who witness it together.  
Harry knew that. He knew that these stars not only looked beautiful but felt so much more beautiful because he was with Louis. And then perhaps, Louis would not be there some night. And he knew he would lose the stars the way he had them now. But he remained to think only of him, to think only of these stars.  
“D’you ever think of kids?” Louis hummed from his side, the breeze shifting a lock of his hair.  
“Well, I guess not.” Harry mumbled, looking away from the sky. The stars were so bright tonight, and this was unusual for their cloudy regular climate. But Louis was right here…  
“You don’t want any?” He mumbled, surprised.  
“’Course I want children.” Harry responded, “But… I kind of accepted not having them, you know. I’ve never wanted a wife… and any orphanages may not take well to my preference in partners. I knew I wouldn’t have a wife to have them with me and… I never thought of having them alone.” Louis was quiet.  
“You don’t have to tell the townspeople that you like men… Or that you’re with me. Anyone who doesn’t want to accept that part of you would rather prefer to believe you just lived with a friend.” He shrugged. Harry had never been one way or the other about his sexuality in public, in fact the sailors at the harbor taverns were generally completely neutral or even benevolent towards people like him, but when it came to the law it was different.  
“You’re… living with me, then?” Harry questioned, only realizing after he’d said it how forward and strange his question sounded to his own ears. Louis laughed.  
“I don’t know…” He murmured, “I think I could see living in this place.” He was quiet for another moment and Harry’s mind worked in brilliant surprise from what he said. He whispered again. “I could see getting old here… Having a little one running ‘round the stairs.” His voice whispered as if to a secret that he regarded as a happy one. Harry thought he could hardly believe what he’d first said and now this.  
“Really?” He muttered gracelessly.  
“I think so… But only if you did as well.” He murmured and some of the nervousness was heard in his voice. “I mean… It’s nothing permanent, just a thought.”  
“I did.” Harry chirped, “I do. I do think that.”  
Louis’ mouth opened in a smile, his head tilting up to see him and laughing under his breath.  
“Yeah?”  
“Yeah.” Harry nodded.  
“Good.” He mumbled, returning his sleepy eyes to the stars. His voice teasing, “I wouldn’t want to leave you to this tower all by your lonely self, like you were.”


	6. Chapter 6

“I need to give them money, Harry.” Louis answered, tone stubborn. Harry’s chest constricted like bars around a caged anxious bird.  
“You can, any other way. Those ships are dangerous… You can still give them money without risking your… safety.” Harry fought. His words fell on deaf ears while his mind remembered the ships that his light worked every night to bring to safety, and recounted the countless vessels that his light couldn’t save.  
His kitchen took on a somber light, Louis’ stubborn brow set as he looked at him.  
“Harry, so many ships return safely every day.” He waved his hand, “You watch them.” This made the tense tremble in his ribs wriggle with anxiety.  
“And not all of them make it, Louis, sailing is dangerous in some ports and sometimes even in open sea. So many things could go wrong, you could have a headstrong captain or just a bad storm or a faulty lighthouse, anything.”  
“I’m pretty sure there are lighthouses in the south and they work fine.” Louis frowned. Harry remembered that most sunken ships went down on the coast while trying to find their way back home. The lighthouse could only do so much.  
“So, what?” Harry scoffed, pacing agitatedly. “Why is this even something you’re considering? Voyages make a lot of money but crew members don’t make that big a cut, Louis. This isn’t worth it, you’re making more money than you would staying here and working but only by a small margin. Any extra money you make out there is made up by how dangerous it is.”  
“I’m getting older, Harry.” Louis murmured quietly. “I want to move out, to live on my own, maybe with you. But I can’t just leave my family… If I can get them extra money… something to help them when I move out, then I can still give them some of my wages later but at least they’d have some safety.”  
Harry huffed in frustration, his eyes pleading.  
“Louis, I could help you!” He raised his hands, “I could give them some of the money I make and you could move out and work on land, where you belong.”  
“No.” Louis shook his head, “Hazza, you only get payed for what you need to live.” His voice answered softly, “Anything you gave to my family would leave you with just enough to buy bread. They need more than that. You need more than that.”  
He lowered his hands to his side, his soft eyes becoming gentle as he stepped towards Harry.  
“I can help them this way.” He murmured, “It’s only six months. And when I come back, I can give them enough money to keep them safe and then move out and help them from wherever I am. Maybe even with you.”  
He couldn’t understand. He couldn’t even see Louis doing this. He couldn’t see Louis on a ship, in the middle of the ocean without his family and his friends. He would charm everyone he met, he knew, but he couldn’t see Louis watching the horizon in the direction of his home. He couldn’t see it at all. It wasn’t him and he belonged here.  
In Harry’s mind, he saw the dying sails of all those sunken ships as they fell below the waves. Man wasn’t meant for the sea. Not like that. In his pained chest, he could feel Louis slipping through his hands; he could almost see the boat in their kitchen go under, too. 

-

 

Harry finally left the lightroom from his vigil, for the first time other than necessity since his ship had sailed away.  
He stood in front of his oven, standing still as he waited silently for all the minutes, his bones becoming still and creaky at movement. The counter was strewn with flower and everything sweet and messy that goes into a pastry.  
The oven timer rung and Harry pulled out what he’d made, setting it on the stove and standing in his oven mitts looking at it for a moment. He didn’t know what he felt. He wasn’t aware of it. He didn’t feel as much as he used to, these days. But as he stared at the pastry, steam rising from its perfect surface, his vision blurred. He didn’t know how he’d started crying but he blinked, frowning.  
His sniffles and his shoulders shuddered as he squeezed his hands into fists inside the oven mitts.  
_Louis kissed him, holding his hands in the mittens and pressing them against his own face, sticking his tongue out and making a face as he pressed the ridiculous oven mitts to his face with Harry’s big hands still inside. Harry laughed his embarrassing laugh._  
Harry turned his back and sat down on the floor, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms around himself, his forehead against his knees. He sniffled through the tears once or twice, not sure what or why he felt.  
Louis had been gone for too long.


	7. Chapter 7

On the balcony, Harry stayed. He slept, and watched the sea and tended the lamp. There was no love in his work anymore. He wasn’t even sure who the light was for anymore, and yet he kept it. Not for long though, the letter of his resignation had already been written.  
“You’re spending a lot of time up here.” Lottie murmured, her voice was rigid with the edge of pain but strong with endurance.  
“You’ve never been in the tower before, what are you doing here?” Harry murmured, not bothering to lift his eyes from the shore as the sun set, the lamp sliding across the horizon soothingly to him. Constant. The light had been turning since he was seventeen, always steady through the night. He could trust it to stay the same and it helped him numb in his head.  
“My mother told me the keeper hadn’t left the lighthouse to get food from town in a week. She sent me with some.”  
Harry glanced at her and looked away.  
“Look,” Lottie spoke, “normally I’d have something to say about someone who sits around depressed like this but I don’t know if I’m feeling it tonight.”  
Harry thought as he looked over the ocean that Lottie had his eyes. His body type. He moved his gaze to her as she crossed her arms, her face a special kind of stubborn and exhausted.  
“I just came here to make sure you haven’t done something stupid to be totally honest.”  
Her voice was blunt. Harry watched her, watching her lips move to shadow the whisper of his accent. He tried to see his fingers in hers, finding differences instead.  
“Is this how you act when you lose someone? Just stop everything? You think that’s the best way to go? You think his family doesn’t need him back? Everyone is doing their best.” She grit her teeth, and Harry thought he could almost see the hollow place that had been carved out by the letter her family had received with those killing words on it.  
Harry’s mind flickered with remembrance as he saw his narrowing eyes in hers, the spite. He was glad. He’d begun to think all he was seeing were differences.  
“You think I don’t hate him for what he did? It’s not supposed to be easy, it’s supposed to be hard.” She looked sick with hate for a minute and then as if with her exhale she lost the fire. He wasn’t sure where she was going with her words, but he didn’t care. Her face returned to the strong fatigue.  
After a long moment of silence, a ship appeared on the horizon, gliding seamlessly into the shore over the calm, harmless water. Lottie sat down on the balcony quietly, he let her.  
“You might have the right idea, Harry.” She mumbled, “I don’t feel like doing it all tonight anyway. This is alright…” She sat with him as if deciding she could be helpless for a minute. At home she was strong and healthy, carrying her mother and sisters with her. On the balcony for a moment, she seemed to decide she didn’t mind it.  
Honesty is an unforgiving mannerism. It was honesty that made her shoulders look heavy as she stared at the ship pulling towards the bay. Honesty was what has kept Harry at the top of the lighthouse, on the balcony for nearly every waking hour of his new unwelcome life. It was honesty that none of the ships passing the lighthouse would bring him back.  
Harry looked away from her. His sister didn’t have enough similarities to keep him looking at her.  
Hours later, after her silence had become a part of the tower just as he was, she spoke as she stood up.  
“He said you didn’t really like living alone, do you think you’d rather have stayed lonely?” Harry noted numbly, with a lost spark of bitterness, how bold she was. No discretion.  
He shrugged, he didn’t know.

-

 

He breathed quietly, standing on gripping the rail, looking at the sea with eyes as deep as her own depths. His hands held tight as the wind roared, the drop from this height was daunting. A height Harry had grown up adjusted to.  
He left the balcony, walking silently down two flights of stairs to the kitchen and gathering glasses and tins and plates. He was quiet, apart from his chest as it breathes heavily in some kind of pain, returning to the balcony.  
He threw the glass at the bars of the railing, shattering across the iron. The first one was followed by a pause as he panted and stared at the ocean. He couldn't find his love for it now. He threw the rest of them with tight, angry muscles, breaking his cups and plates, some porcelain teacup Louis’ little sister gave him. His eyes were gleaming with tears as he pitched tin objects over the side and before he knew it his hands were empty and there was nothing left to throw away but the ruble left on the balcony. His fists were clenched where he stood for a moment. Then he turned around and stood before the glass panel around the lamp. He didn’t think as he broke it, the glass breaking his own skin.  
He backed against the wall, sinking into his knees and covering his face. He finally made a sound, sorrowful in his throat as he pressed his face into his hands.  
In some other time, he could feel remorse for his carefully tended lamp. And the tower could feel remorse for his soft hands.


	8. Chapter 8

In the distance, away from the tower on the shoreline, Harry’s tall, weighted figure waits on the cliff. The wind was dark and pulling at grass and curly, dark hair.   
_“How high up are we?”_  
The water is loud, but tonight it calls to the heavy clouds awakening in the sky.   
_He looked… breathless and alive._  
The white waves pitched violently on the fringes of the cavernous expanse of sea and storm.   
_Water dampened his shoulders and ankles, his eyes bright and, if he wasn’t mistaken by the dim candlight, blue._  
An ocean of grass behind him and a plain of sea in front of him, he was small in the middle. As if he could be picked up and dropped over the edge.  
 _“Harry?”_  
The sky pitched a low sonorous roll like the creak of a ship.  
 _“Do you want to see?”_ Harry’s body shuffled forward as if to test the edge of the cliff. _“How high?”_  
 _“Sure.”_  
The thunder writhed again and the waves seemed to react proportionately.   
The waves broke the rocks and he wondered where the stone went when it was torn apart.   
He wished his own lungs were filled with water.  
In his mind, Harry remembered the cold of the rain on that night. Remembered the mud soaked roads and the abandoned wagons with wheels caught in places. He remembered passing the small boy, and his bright eyes. He didn't look nearly as bested by the storm as he should have looked, eyes still winning.   
He wondered at what would have been if it had not rained. If he had stayed home. If he'd stayed at the town and waited through the storm that he knew was approaching. If Louis hadn't so willingly followed him home.   
He turned away and walked back to the lighthouse in no hurry. No worry of weather the storm was coming close to stepping down on him or just pacing behind.   
He went straight to bed, falling asleep and waking up on time to tend to the light before returning.  
In the next month he spent almost all of his time on the balcony, watching the light over the sea and not speaking to anyone as the sun rose and set, a timeless burning flower. He ate less. Slept less. His eyes followed the ships that passed into the bay harbor.   
In the desk beside his bed, there still lie in a drawer the letter with the words that told Louis’ sunken ship scrawled in faceless ink.   
His boat had gone down in sight of land.

-

 

His body eventually returned and Jay said her goodbyes and asked that he be buried at the tower. It was where she believed he was happy.   
Harry wanted for no help to do this, and he was alone as he wanted to be when he buried him. He was glad for the small, neat casket that held his body. He wouldn’t ever have to see him without the light behind his eyes.   
His heavy hands dug for hours in the earth before his tower. And from the balcony his tired shoulders could be seen as he dug and dug and dug before he was able to bury him in between the lighthouse and the sea. And if he did cry, it couldn’t be heard from the balcony where the wind carried no sound. No one could have known and it was for no one to tell whether he wept or not.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this to the song Stand By Me by Florence and the Machine.
> 
> Come see me at my tumblr: thisshipsailsitselff :) x

_"And the winds that blow remind me of what has been and what can never be."_

In the distance across the field, to the edge of the cliffs, Harry could be seen from the tower.  
If the dark and still lamp at the top of the tower could hear thoughts from its keeper, it would be able to hear Lottie’s quiet voice as she murmured in a hidden tone behind her mother’s and sister’s backs. _Maybe we have to say goodbye but… maybe we can still keep him._ The sound of her voice could be heard as she mumbled nonsense before turning away and never alluding to her words again. The turning of her head could be seen and then the blurring of the tossing sea so many distances below him.  
The sun was unusual like this, shining on his face today, usually covered by the island’s consistent clouds.  
If the light could know it’s keeper, perhaps it would know the view of the dazzling sun as it twinkled on the crests of the water. And it would know the ache so deep in himself that it was a question of anything else being left at all.  
To know the keepers changed heart would be to see the veins in Louis’ neck as he laughed and threw his head. The wrinkles beside his eyes could be seen, where he smiled. His cold skin could be felt as he played with Harry in the shallows of the cold beach of the sea. And the lowering of his dark lashes as he gave Harry his gaze in the low light of a tavern, daring him to dance with him in front of everyone there. He could hear his voice when it was rough and quiet in the hours kept in their narrow bed. It was theirs. The whole tower was theirs, like it had never been anyone's beside Harry’s alone before. The sound of his feet could still be heard beside Harry’s pattering up the stairs, the pitch of his early morning voice at the table by the tiny window when he drank tea in the morning after Harry tended the light. In his heart, somehow the ache was the same thing as the love and one would wonder how it had ever come to be this way.  
He felt more alive now than he had since his ship had left out of their home, standing here on this precipice over the sea. And he felt, under his skin, as if he could just feel his hair beneath his hand.  
And beside that ever rolling sigh of the sea, the beautiful rasp of the voice that sang to him. The in between laughs that broke apart and slid over, bright and loud. Still as clear now as when born in his mouth.  
And it played for him. To him. And he listened as he closed his eyes and felt the ridge of the cliff underneath his bare feet, the updraft of the ocean wild in his hair. He listened and swayed. 

 

_The water is wide_  
_I can’t get over_  
_Neither have I the wings to fly_  
_So go and give me to a boat to carry both_  
_My love and I_  
_Must I be bound and she go free_  
_Am I to love, while she doesn’t love me_  
_Why should I act the childish part_  
_And love a girl that breaks my heart_  
_There is a ship out on the sea_  
_And loaded deep as it can be_  
_But not as deep_  
_As love am I_  
_Don’t care if I should live or die_  
_The water is wide_  
_I can’t get over_  
_Neither have I the wings to fly_  
_So go and give me to a boat to carry both_  
_My love and I_


End file.
